


Delivery

by afewmistakesago



Series: Pizza Man Gold [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bad Exes, F/M, Flour fight, pizza man gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afewmistakesago/pseuds/afewmistakesago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Prompt: Griffin begins to harass Gold, all in an attempt to prove he is better than him. When Griffin starts spreading the rumor that Belle is out for Gold's money or is a whore or something, it's the last straw. Griffin's next pizza delivery includes something a little extra. ;-D"</p><p>Belle and Alexander deal with rumors, and make pizza together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delivery

           “Is something wrong with the chicken, sweetheart?” Alexander asked, watching Belle’s plate. For the past ten minutes, Belle had cut up her chicken, and then scraped it around, taking maybe two bites total. “If it’s not good, I’ll make something else.”

            Truth be told, he thought the lemon chicken recipe he’d picked up online was quite delicious, and had his plate mostly cleared, but Belle didn't seem to agree. She looked up at him, her expression troubled.

            “No, it’s good!” she said, making a show of putting a bite in her mouth. “I’m just… not hungry.”

            That didn’t seem like the Belle he knew at all.

            “Are you feeling ill?” he asked, considering extending a hand to her forehead. “Or did something happen at work?”

            She dropped her fork onto her plate, biting her lip. “You know my friend Ruby?”

            Alexander had met Ruby maybe once in passing, but he knew she worked at the library with Belle and that they were good friends. “Did you two have a fight at work?” he asked. A spat between friends would kill anyone’s appetite.

            “No, not really,” Belle said. “But she saw Griffin at the supermarket the other day.”

            He stiffened at that. The thought of Belle’s ex-boyfriend made him less than happy. “Oh?” he asked, his tone grave.

            “Just… she said he said I was a _whore_ ,” Belle said, cringing at the crude word. “And insinuated that I was only with you for your money, which is entirely ridiculous, because I didn’t even know you _had_ money, and I don’t care that you _do_ have money -”

            She buried her head in her hands, and Alexander reached for her plate, silently cursing Griffin for making her upset like this. “Hey,” he said gently, putting his hands on her shoulders after he’d placed both of their plates by the sink. “Let’s go for a walk.”

            Belle looked up at  him, sniffling a bit. “A walk?” she asked doubtfully.

            “Things never seem so awful after some fresh air and exercise.”

            “I hate exercise,” Belle groaned, but she stood from her chair regardless, slipping on her shoes. They walked hand in hand around his neighborhood in silence for a few minutes before Alexander spoke.

            "You know what Griffin said was wrong, right?” he asked, and he watched Belle shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Because it was. He’s just a hateful low life. What he says shouldn’t hurt you.”

            “But Ruby believed it,” Belle admitted. “The money thing, I mean.”

            “Oh.”

            “Yeah,” Belle said. “I told her it was wrong and she said she believed me, but, I don’t know.”

            They rounded a corner, standing to the side of the sidewalk as a redhaired man and his dalmatian made their way in the opposite direction. “Well, I know he’s wrong, and you know he’s wrong, and isn’t that what matters?”

            Belle nodded, but still looked perturbed. “I just hate that he’s out there spreading those awful lies.”

            “Me too, Belle,” Alexander said. “I’ll figure something out.”

            She gave him a warning look. “Do I want to know what that means?”

            He shrugged. “Who knows. Now, do you want to keep walking and hit the sub shop, or do you want me to make you something at my house?”

            Belle looked down the road that would take them back to his house, then smiled. “Would you mind if I got a sub?”

            “No, after the nasty accusations you had to hear, you can have whatever you need."

\---

            Alexander hadn’t slept well. He’d tossed and turned on what Belle’s ex was saying. The next day, he’d woken up to find her car already gone with a note saying she was going to work early. He spent the day doing paper work from the law firm at home, cleaning things up, then drove to the pizzeria for a night shift.

            It was a busy night, and Alexander was thankful for the 9:30pm cut off time. When the phone rang at 9:25pm, he held his breath in the hopes it wasn’t a delivery. Merida put the call on hold, giving him a mournful look. “It’s a delivery,” she said. “Should I say no?”

            Alexander grimaced, then looked at the caller ID. _Gastin, Griffin._

            “No, it’s fine,” he said, a small smile growing on his face. “I’ll take this one.”

            When Merida handed him the printed ticket, he walked into the kitchen to see David reading the ticket over. “Mind if I make this one?” he asked, reaching for a pair of gloves.

            “Uh, be my guest,” David said, taking a step back.

            “Where do you keep the jalapenos?” Alexander asked, and David pointed to the container.

            “I don’t think I read jalapenos on that ticket, Gold,” David said slowly, watching as Alexander diced the jalapenos into tiny little pieces. Reaching for a bowl, he mixed the jalapenos in with their signature tomato sauce.

            David was watching him incredulously. “Do you have a personal vendetta against this customer?”

            “Was it hard to tell?” Alexander asked, meticulously evening the sauce out on the pizza dough. “Do we still have the habanero wing sauce?”

            Sighing, David went to the fryer side of the kitchen and brought the bottle over. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

            “You’re not going to tell,” Alexander said levelly.“He’s been spreading lies about someone I care about.”

            A layer of habanero sauce was added over the jalapeno-marinara sauce. He sprinkled the pizza with an appropriate amount of cheese, then put it into the oven. In twenty minutes, it was done, the cheese perfectly crisp, hiding the heat underneath. The drive to Griffin’s house was short, and he arrived at the house, knocking on the door.

            “Oh, it’s you,” Griffin said dismissively as he took the pizza box from Alexander. “I’ve been telling everyone I meet that Belle deserves better than you.”

            Alexander noticed the open bottles of alcohol on the counter behind Griffin. Was this man ever sober?

            “So I’ve heard,” he said drily, handing Griffin the check to be signed.

            “She still wants me,” Griffin said confidently. “Any day now, she’ll see she wants to be with me. I did my research - you used to be some hot shot lawyer, made lots of bank. But that money won’t hold her attention forever, old man.”

            “Thank you for your insight,” Alexander replied, rolling his eyes to see the $1 tip Griffin had thoughtfully left for him. “And enjoy your pizza.”

            The door slammed shut, and Alexander drove back to the pizzeria with a grin on his face, ready to take the blame for when he called to report his pizza was not what he ordered.

            Merida glared at him when he walked back in. “What did you do? I just got yelled at by a drunk guy that the pizza you delivered was super hot.”

            “You said he was drunk, yeah?” Alexander said. “I wouldn’t think much of it.”

            “I’ve got him on hold for a manager, but I think Marco is already out for the night,” Merida said. “You want to be Marco? Just offer him a gift card or something.”

            Alexander laughed at that, taking the call off hold. “What seems to be the problem, Mr. Gastin?”

            “This damn pizza tastes like I ordered death-level hot wings,” Griffin said indignantly, slurring the ends of his words.

            “Are you sure all the alcohol you consumed isn’t impairing your taste buds?”

            “What? That’s crazy,” came the response from the other end of the line.

            “No, what’s crazy, Griffin, is the way you constantly degrade women and expect them to want you. Please, for your sake and mine, never call here again. And don’t say another bad word about Belle, because, I remind you, I do know where you live.”

            There was silence, and then, “Are you threatening me?”

            “Probably.”

            “You’re losing a customer. And I’ll tell my friends.”

            “A misogynistic customer who tips poorly. I can’t say it’s a shame.”

            The line went dead, and Griffin worked his way around the computer system to block the offending number.

\---

            He went to Belle’s house the next night with grocery bags filled with ingredients. “You’re in a good mood,” she commented, kissing his cheek before taking his coat from him.

            “I’m with you, aren’t I?”

            She rolled her eyes. “You’re cheesy.”

            “This,” he said, picking up a bag of shredded mozzarella from one of his grocery bags, “is cheesy.”

            “You said we were having pizza,” Belle said, poking around one of the bags. “But I see now that means we’re making pizza?”

            “My last attempt to cook for you didn’t go as planned,” he said. “So we can do this together. I thought it might be fun?”

            Belle lifted the pre-made dough out of the bag. “It might be.”

            They cleared off her kitchen counter, and Belle sprinkled flour onto the clear surface, then began to roll out the dough. Alexander was at her stove, cooking the crumbled italian sausage. When it was done, he put it into a small dish, then gave her a disapproving look.

            “What?” Belle asked, looking at the squashed dough. “Does your pizza delivery man job make you a superior pizza maker?”

            “Some may say that,” he murmured into her ear, stepping behind her. He covered her hands with his, showing her the proper way to knead the dough.

            Belle glanced up at him, his large hands still covering her small ones once the dough was nicely divided into two perfect circles with him guiding her. “Thank you,” she said quietly. Then, a mischievous glimmer formed in her eyes. She pinched some leftover flour in her hands, turning and letting the flour go onto his perfect navy dress shirt.

            “Belle!” he said in surprise, reaching a grabbing flour of his own and dropping it on her head. It covered her hair like snow would, and she blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Thanks,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Now before you throw tomato sauce that will stain onto my dress, let’s make these, yes?”

            It was a silent competition to see who’s pizza would look more perfect. Alexander’s was a mess of pepperoni, sausage, and green pepper. Belle’s was sausage, and after looking in her fridge, she pulled out a jalapeno, dicing it into small pieces.

            “I’ve been craving spice lately,” she said, dropping it onto her pizza without restraint.

            He couldn’t help but laugh. After he had sprinkled oregano and basil on top of both of them, she carefully put them onto a pan. “What’s funny?” she asked with a curious look, sliding their pizzas into her preheated oven.

            “I’ll explain it to you later,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “Let’s set the table.”

\---


End file.
